


Neighbourhood Watch

by saltwatergirl



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Future Fic, M/M, POV Outsider, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 20:50:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4034113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltwatergirl/pseuds/saltwatergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was something peculiar about Anita's new neighbours.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Neighbourhood Watch

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, [Equallydestructive](http://archiveofourown.org/users/equallydestructive) for the beta read.

There was something peculiar about Anita's new neighbours.

It had been niggling at her since she first saw them arrive in the dead of the night two days ago. They disembarked from a sleek motor vehicle, carrying one suitcase of luggage between the two of them. Ever since her dear friend Helen passed, Helen’s good for nothing offspring had been renting out the estate for whoever would have it. Anita had _known_ it would be a matter of time before the wrong sort of character took residence.

Case in point - those two fellows. They were youngish from what she could see through the crack of her curtains. Glued to their side had been a mean-looking older man dressed entirely in black, who sped off as soon as they were inside the house. And they were secretive, oh so secretive. Only individuals who had much to hide rendezvoused during the witching hour. Well, they had selected the wrong neighbourhood to inhabit if they thought they could wreak havoc, cooking meth or whatever young men like them did to afford the fancy Range Rover that parked in the driveway.

Anita had been a member of the Eastwood Neighbourhood Watch for more than fourty years and she was making it her business to keep watch on those two.

#### ***

When a third night had passed and her two new neighbours still hadn't introduced themselves, Anita baked a casserole and walked over next door. Even from the road, she could hear the god-awful noise that tried to pass itself off for music blaring from inside the house. She swallowed down her distaste, fixed her hair, and knocked on the door. She heard a key being jingled then she was presented with one of her new neighbours.

"Hello, I'm Anita. I live next door," she shouted over the music and pointed to her house with one hand. "I thought I could stop by and introduce myself. I brought a gift." She held out the casserole to the boy. Because he was a boy. Out of his teens, but definitely decades younger than her youngest child.

"Oh, thank you." He took the casserole. "I'm Li- I mean I'm- Bruce." He held out his hand and shook hers.

Anita peered over his shoulder into the house. "You're vacationing by yourself, Bruce?"

"No." Bruce looked at her. "I'll make sure to return the dish."

 When it was clear that he had no intention of inviting her in, Anita said her goodbyes and returned home, where she quickly resumed her neighbourhood watch duties.

There was something off about those young men and she would get to the bottom of it.

#### ***

The next day she retrieved her late second husband's birdwatching binoculars and sat in the guest bedroom that faced Helen's house, giving her a clear view into the first floor and backyard.

She spied Bruce and the other fellow diddle-daddling by the pool in their swimming trunks. Anita zoomed in on Bruce’s companion. She had never seen so many tattoos on one person. Maybe they were escaped prisoners? But where would they have acquired the money to rent Helen's place? She knew it didn't come cheap. None of the rental rates in this neighbourhood were. “High pricing is an excellent method of keeping the riffraff out, darling.” The local realtor had drawled at a council meeting.

The two were kissing. Bruce was pulling his lover into his arms and tracing the tattoos on the other boy's arms and chest. Bruce's pillow-biter friend seemed to enjoy his attention, writhing up against him.

Anita put the binoculars away and went to watch her programmes.

#### ***

Two days later she was watering her rose bushes when she heard loud voices. The lovers were arguing again. She put down the watering can and walked around the fence.

"It's not easy for me either!" a voice shouted. "You think I wanted to leave?"

"Sometimes I think you did." Anita recognised Bruce's voice, although it was deeper and more guttural with anger. "I'm the one who’s had to spend months on the road without you."

Anita wanted to get a closer look, so she peered through the window and saw a glimpse of Bruce in the living room, standing in front of his lover as they argued.

"It's not forever. Soon this will blow over and - what was that?" Bruce's friend said

She had been spotted. Anita ducked below the window.

"What?" Bruce asked.

"Over by the window. I thought I saw something."

Anita quickly walked around to the front of the house just as Bruce and his friend opened the door.

"Hello." Anita smiled.

"Hello," Bruce and his friend said simultaneously.

"I need that casserole dish back," she said. Bruce nodded.

"I'll go and collect it." He disappeared inside the house, leaving her and his friend alone.

"I don't think we've met," she said. Up close, she could make out the boy's exotic features. Persian? Maybe Greek? Her third husband and the father of two of her four children, had been Greek. He had been a fantastic lover, but unfortunately he had also been a skirt chaser, which led to the demise of their marriage. Not that skirt chasing was an issue for the boy in front of her if she recalled how he and Bruce had been slobbering all over each other by the pool the other day. "I'm Anita."

"Um, Wayne," the boy said, holding out a hand to shake hers. Wayne? Well, that was hardly exotic.

Bruce returned with her casserole dish and handed it to her.

"Thank you," she said before saying her farewell and returning to her house.

#### ***

Bruce and Wayne fought a great deal. Their raised voices could be heard even in her living room. Doors being slammed. Plates being broken. Threats of 'never coming back to the band' and once, tears.

They also had sex frequently and had the habit of not closing their curtains. Bruce reminded her of her first husband - he'd also been a passionate man who'd made love to her endlessly when he returned from the war. He'd been older than her and her parents absolutely loathed him, but he had been a kind and gentle man taken away from her too soon. He had been the one true love of her life.

No meth was being cooked and no East European girls were being trafficked, which was disappointing. Anita put away her binoculars and officially resigned her neighbourhood watching endeavours.

The only threat those two posed was breaking dear old Helen's bed.

#### ***

The end of the summer arrived. The all-black wearing, never smiling older man from that first night drove up next door presumably to collect one of the young men. Bruce and Wayne graciously stopped by her house, saying goodbye and thanking her for the casserole. Wayne even brought her lilies. Then they were gone, the Range Rover disappearing down the street with the all-black wearing man’s Mercedes following close behind it.

#### ***

Months later, her oldest grandchild was visiting. Grace was her name; a lovely girl, and Anita would never freely admit it, but she was her favourite grandchild. Grace had the telly turned on to that dreadful music channel where young ladies wore too little and young men swore too much. Anita was knitting on the couch, resigned to missing out on her programmes because Grace had to watch some music awards show.

Anita heard a familiar voice on the telly and looked up.

"Yes, we're happy to have Zayn back. We’ve definitely missed him this past year." It was Bruce on the telly. He was on the red carpet dressed in a suit. Next to him was Wayne, who nodded as he spoke.

"And you, Zayn? Are you happy to be part of the band again?" The blonde woman held out the microphone to him.

"Yes, we're kicking of our farewell tour next month and it wouldn't have felt right not joining these lads," Wayne said. They said goodbye to the interviewer and walked to the next set of cameras.

"They were staying in Helen's house a couple of weeks back," Anita said.

"Who was, Nan?"

"Bruce and Wayne."

Grace looked over her shoulder. "Bruce Wayne?"

"No, Bruce and Wayne - the young men on the telly.” Anita pointed with a pin to the telly where Wayne was speaking. “They rented Helen’s house during the summer. They are unabashed pillow-biters undoubtedly, not that I’m judging - my fourth husband Kyle was one too. So polite. Bruce and Wayne, that is. Kyle was extremely unpleasant, but one shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. "

Grace muted the telly and turned to sit cross-legged, facing Anita, worry etched over her face. "Have you been taking your medication, Nan?"

"Yes." Anita resumed her knitting. Grace rose to her feet, went to the other room, and Anita heard her whispering that Grandma was seeing things and that her mother should come over immediately.

Anita had been right. Her neighbours were hiding something after all.

 They needed not worry as Anita was great at keeping secrets. So good was she at it, that over the years she had amassed one dead ex-husband, who was buried under her rose bushes. Then there was her dear friend Helen who had slept with Anita’s ill-advised husband, Mikolas. They had expected Anita to turn a blind eye to it. Hadn’t they heard that saying about a woman scorned? Well Mikolas, having chased one too many a skirt, had fifteen remaining years to contemplate the idiom’s meaning while he served out his sentence for Helen’s murder.

Grace returned to the room, holding out her mobile. “Nan, tell Mum what you’ve just told me.”

“What did I just tell you?” Anita feigned confusion.

“That you saw Liam and Zayn from One Direction? And they were living next door in Mrs O’Connor’s old house.”

“Who?” Anita took the mobile.

Grace frowned. “You were calling them Bruce and Wayne. You said they were gay?”

Anita smiled understandingly. “My fourth husband Kyle was a homosexual. Have I ever mentioned that? He was an unpleasant man, but one shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”

Yes, Anita was _great_ at keeping secrets.

**The End**


End file.
